The Pack of Winterfell
by KnowledgeRobot
Summary: First Story. AU. Sansa will be OOC. The legend of the Pack of Winterfell is an old one. Six humans of the House of Stark, bonded to six direwolves. These Starks would lead the North to a time of prosperity yet unknown to them. Led by their strong Alpha, the Pack of Winterfell shall rise.
1. Chapter 1

Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell rode atop his horse, leading his company away from the Wall back to his home if Winterfell. The Lord Stark was accompanied by his two sons eldest sons. His heir, Brandon, was a tall and handsome boy, quick to his sword and just as talented with a joust at only eight name days, already being called the wild wolf. Rickard's second son, Eddard, was less likely to anger, a quiet boy of seven name days, with a long face and grey eyes that gave away his every thought, the opposite of his brother, being called the quiet wolf.

Rickard had taken his sons on this trip to show them what they themselves may one day be asked to do. There had been a deserter from the Wall. And as Starks had always done, Rickard had heard the man's last words, and been the one to swing the sword. This was not the first time either boy had seen a man beheaded by their father, and both doubted it would be the last. As long as men deserted the Wall, The Lord Stark would be there to enact punishment.

It was during this ride home that they found them. The brothers had been racing home, purely for bragging rights, when they saw her.

Brandon called out to their father, bringing him over to where they found the dead Direwolf, killed by a broken antler in her throat, surrounded by five pups.

"What is it Father?" Ned asked quietly, not aware of an animal that could grow so large.

"She's a direwolf son." Rickard whispered solemnly, "They're all direwolves."

"How?" Brandon asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, "There haven't been direwolves south of the Wall in nearly two-hundred years."

"There are now." Rickard said, "We're looking at them."

"What should we do?" Brandon wondered, "We can't just leave the pups here."

Rickard nodded his head, they couldn't just leave the pups, after all, they are direwolves, even if they need to grow into the name. Then, Ned picked one up, "They aren't waking Father. Are they even alive?"

An urgency the boys had never seen before in their father came alive. "Won't wake? Boys, search for a sixth pup, pure white, and a runt."

They boys were confused, but did as their Lord Father bid them, searching around the wolf until Ned found a sixth pup, obviously the runt of the litter, fur as white as the snow of Winterfell. "Here Father," Ned called, the pup resting in his arms.

A look of wonder overtook The Lord Stark's face, a smile growing across his lips. "We found them." He said reverently, "we found the Hounds of the Pack of Winterfell."

Realization overcame the two boys. The legend of the Pack of Winterfell was as old as Winterfell itself. It spoke of a group of Starks who all bonded with direwolves, and it said that they would bring the North an era of prosperity never before seen. The fact that they had found the Hounds of the Pack, could only mean that they would be coming soon.

Both boys yelped in joy, celebrating together while still minding the ever sleeping pups. It all made sense now. The pups would sleep and keep from aging until they had found their bonded. And as the legend says, these bonded themselves would sleep until the entirety of their Pack was together. These pups were to be kept safe until the Pack could come together, and the House of Stark was proud to be chosen to fulfill the duty.

Rickard laughed with his sons for a bit, before calming them and telling them to grab two pups each. The Hounds of Winterfell would be coming home.

•••

Time Skip: Thirteen Years

This was not how the new Lord Stark envisioned his return home. Well, not at first at least. But now, with his bastard son, Jon Snow, in his arms as he looks to his wife, Catelyn, holding their first true born child, Robb, he truly wishes something's had turned out different.

He walked toward his wife, his Queen of the North, and watched the anger on her face grow the longer she looked at him. "I shall respect the bastard as your own," her tone was clipped, "but I shall not love him, nor shall you be forgiven for a while yet."

Ned nearly sighed in relief. This was by far the best he could ask for. At least she didn't force him to abandon the child. "As you wish, My Lady." His voice was apologetic, and it was clear to Catelyn he was willing to grovel. "May I see him?" Ned whispered, gesturing to the babe in Catelyn's arms.

She looked down to the babe in her arms, then to the babe in his. "Only if I can see him."

A large grin graced Ned's face, and he happily acquiesced to her wishes. As soon as he had his true born son in his arms, it seemed as though every wrong doing he had been forced to witness in the long war for his friend, Robert Baratheon's crown, simply vanished as he looked at his child's face.

As soon as the smile appeared, it vanished. "Catelyn, have you taken him to the pups?"

She shook her head, "I wanted to wait until your arrival so that he might know his father before he knows his wolf." Ned nodded, feeling thankful to be married to such a wonderful woman.

"Let us delay it no longer. They deserve to know their pack."

"You mean to give the bastard a wolf?" Catelyn was outraged that her husband could suggest such a thing. Not only did he have the audacity to bring home a bastard, now he claimed the child would be part of the Pack.

"I mean for a wolf to choose him, Catelyn. If I were to choose, he would get the runt, but it is up to the wolves to decide." As Ned talked, he began walking to the nursery, prompting his wife to follow.

"As you say, My Lord Husband." Catelyn said, "As you say."

They each stepped into the nursery, bringing the two boys into the room occupied by various nursemaids who cared for the direwolf pups, each pup sleeping in a crib that would be converted to beds as the pups and children grew.

Ned and Catelyn excused the young women, holding the two children close as they approached the sleeping pups. Ned turned to Catelyn, "Bring Jon to the runt first. If they are meant to be, I want the bond to form as soon as possible." Catelyn nodded and did as Ned asked. She felt the child wriggle the closer she got to the crib holding the smallest direwolf.

As Catelyn placed the child next to the runt, a soft light encompassed both, bonding them together and causing the bastard son of Ned Stark to enter a deep sleep. As Catelyn had been placing Jon next to the runt, Ned was walking amongst the three male direwolves, feeling young Robb squirm more around a male who had fur the color of smoke. As Ned placed Robb next to the pup, the same sort of light Catelyn saw with Jon surrounded Robb and his wolf, and as it dissipated, Robb too had entered a deep sleep.

"What shall we do now?" Catelyn whispered, looking upon her son with a longing known only by other mothers.

Ned wrapped an arm around her as he gazed upon his sons. "Now, we wait for the rest of the pack."

•••

Time Skip: Eleven Years

Catelyn smiled at her youngest, and most likely last, child. They named him Rickon, a strong name for the last Stark child, and for the completing member of the Pack. As Catelyn entered the nursery, she smiled at her eldest. Robb had grown into a strong looking boy of eleven name days. He had taken after her, with the Tully red-brown hair, and she hoped the blue eyes as well, though she wouldn't know until he woke. But she knew Ned was proud of the fact that the rest of him was all Stark. The large direwolf at his side had grown well, its smoke fur covering a strong body. Catelyn's second child was also her first girl, now with eight name days. They named her Sansa too took after her mother with her auburn hair and high cheek-bones. The wolf by her side was a female with grey fur. If her current size was anything to go by, this wolf would be the smallest, though Catelyn knew that size didn't always equal ferocity. In fact, it is usually the smallest who have the most to prove. Catelyn's third child was her second girl, now with six name days, was named Arya. Arya took after her father in the looks department, but Catelyn hoped she had the quiet Tully strength. Arya's direwolf was a female with a slightly darker shade of grey fur then Sansa's direwolf. Catelyn knew that she would be strong. The fourth child Catelyn had was a boy, now with four name days, named Brandon, Bran for short. Bran also took after his mother, thick auburn hair decorating his skull. Bran's direwolf had silver grey fur. Finally, Catelyn looked upon the bastard. Named Jon Snow, he was a lean boy, equal in age to her Robb. Jon's runt had grown in the past eleven years, now none would guess that the pure white wolf had ever been smaller than his pack mates.

Ned stood behind Catelyn, smiling over her shoulder to the baby Rickon. "Come my lady," Ned's breath ghosted past her ear, "let's meet our children."

Catelyn smiled as she carried the baby Rickon to the lone crib in the nursery, holding the last direwolf, a pup with pure black fur, a stark contrast with the runt's pure white. As Rickon was placed in the crib, the same light from the last five times encircled him, but instead of sleeping with his wolf, Rickon's direwolf awoke, immediately cuddling with the infant. The two eldest Starks turned toward a gasp they heard, seeing five questioning looks directed at them. "Welcome my children," Ned said, a smile on his face, "Welcome to the home of the House Stark. The home of this Pack. Welcome to Winterfell."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Forgot this for the last chapter, but here is my disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea to use the characters the way they are being used in this Fic. The only characters I own are the ones unrecognizable as from ASOIAF. Everything else belongs to George RR Martin.

Sansa looked around the room she an her Pack had awoken in. It was clearly spacious, but felt constricting after the open fields of the Packs mind-scape. She could still feel her Pack on the edges of her mind. Robb and Jon were the two she took the most comfort in, their steadying presence confirming for her that she had made the right choice in naming them her Betas.

Sansa slowly sat up in the bed she found herself laying in. She could feel her direwolf, Lady, stretched out next to her, and reveled in her bond-mate's close proximity. As she slowly worked her way into a standing potion, still unused to moving her physical body, she called to her Pack. "I want all of you on your best behaviors. I know it may be overwhelming, but remember you represent this Pack, and by extension myself. And I refuse to be seen as an incompetent Alpha." Sansa felt her Pack confirm that they had heard her, and acknowledge that they understood what she had asked of them. They all knew that while there were times to play, the next few days were to be dedicated to relearning all that they could do in their mind-scape, in this new physical world.

Feeling her Packs understanding, Sansa turned to the two adults waiting patiently next to the crib holding the youngest member of the Pack. "Mother, Father, it is good to be home." Sansa's melodic voice was raspy from disuse, though one could not deny the underplaying power it possessed.

Catelyn grinned broadly at her first born daughter, feeling proud that she had managed to et the position of Alpha from her brothers. Ned, on the other hand, stood shocked. His eyes flicked rapidly between Robb, who was only just now standing, and Sansa, who's legs had finally managed to stop shacking and who's back had straightened, carrying her to her full height. "How?" He whispered, disbelief coloring his tone.

Sansa laughed lightly, and she turned to Robb with a broad grin on her face. "I told you he would be surprised."

Robb grinned back, speaking for the first time, "so you did, sister. So you did." He then turned to Jon. "I should have listened when you said not to bet against our Alpha." Though his voice was as raspy as his sister's, where hers was melodic, Robb's was a baritone, that while still holding power obviously lacked the full extent of Sansa's. Jon just grinned at his brother, choosing not to answer as they both stood for the first time.

Sansa, in the mean time, had turned her attention back to her parents. "I know you may have some questions, but I believe that we are all ready to see Winterfell."

Ned quickly overcame his shock, smiling with his wife as the Pack began nodding eagerly at their Alpha's recommendation. "Well, to begin perhaps we should show you the grounds, then we can work our way through the castle itself." When the Pack began nodding with even more vigor, Ned let out a barking laugh that he hadn't emitted since his father and brother were killed by the Mad King. "Let us go then, before you all shake your heads off."

Even though they had only stood for the first time that day, the Pack raced from the room. Sansa followed her siblings at a slower pace, picking up baby Rickon as she passed his crib, handing his direwolf to Lady who carried him by the scruff before quickly racing after their laughing Pack, easily overcoming them before leading her Pack through Winterfell.

Their parents laughed from the door to the nursery, reveling in the joy they felt at finally having their family happy and together. Still laughing, The Lord and Lady Stark followed the giggling children, finally showing them their home.

•••

Time Skip: Three Years

Sansa was bored. Ever since she and Arya had been cornered by Septa Mordane the second day after they had woken, they had been made to participate in lessons the Septa called "womanly arts". Truthfully, Sansa and Arya would both rather be playing with their brothers, and using the full day to practice with their swords instead of only in the afternoon that these lessons afforded them. Truly, the only upside that Sansa could see is that it may help them blend on if they were to ever go to Kings Landing, and that the Septa had permitted them to have Lady and Nymeria with them. Otherwise Sansa would have found a way out of this long ago.

Sansa worked slowly, making each stitch with the same care she would afford a sword stroke in a fight. She was determined to do well, after all, what good was participating in these lessons if they didn't gain anything. She smiled at the ever growing picture of Lady being made on the cloth. Sansa quickly looked over at Arya's work, laughing as she saw her cursing under her breath and fighting with the stitches he had made. "Come here, Arya." She whispered, flicking her eyes to the Septa engrossed in her own stitch work, hoping to have helped Arya before she looked up.

Arya quickly made her way to her sister's side, ever aware of the direwolves resting underfoot, and the Septa who was meant to be watching them. She looked at her sister sheepishly as she presented the tangled mass that she had managed to create. Sansa playfully rolled her eyes before helping her sister untangle the mass, then showing her how she goes about making her own stitches. "It's easiest when you think of them as sword strokes." She whispered, demonstrating with her own embroidery, "If you wish to defeat your enemy, you must make each movement count. And remember that a hasty swordsman leaves themselves open to attack, or, in your case, tangles." The two sisters laughed lightly, Arya moving back to her seat before reattempting her design, this time moving the needle in a much more precise manner, taking care to not make another mess.

The sisters were made to sit for another hour before Septa Mordane looked up from her stitching, standing before the sisters with her hand held out expectantly, looking surprised as both sisters handed her two pieces of cloth that clearly depicted their direwolves. She inspected both closely before sighing and dismissing the girls for the day, smiling as they raced out, followed by their direwolves.

Outside, the sisters quickly found their brothers standing before a target, Bran holding a bow and arrow, clearly about to shoot. "Wait." Sansa called, striding up to her second youngest brother. She lightly adjusted his stance, straightening his back and tilting his head up a bit. "Remember," she coached, "don't let your arms shake, and keep an eye on where you want the arrow to go. You'll do fine." Sansa stepped back, gesturing for her brother of seven name days to take the shot.

Bran took a deep breath before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, hitting the second ring of the target with a solid thunk. He was quickly swarmed by his siblings, each howling in joy alongside their direwolves, relishing in their Pack mates success.

Sansa wrapped her arms around him, ruffling his hair affectionately. "What did I tell you?" Pride was evident in her voice, as well as through the Pack bond, and Bran felt his chest puff out a bit.

After a few moments of congratulations, Bran was released from the Pack, placed before his direwolf. It had taken him waking up from the Packs combined sleep to name him. Bran smiled at Summer, feeling his approval wash through the Pack bond. You have done well Bran. Bran grinned at his direwolf, glad that the Pack bond allowed them to communicate with their bonds.

Sansa stood off to the side, watching her Pack interact, Lady by her side. Just then, Ned, who had been watching the Pack interact with a smile on his face, was approached by his wife. Catelyn's lips were downturned, obvious regret for removing her husbands smile shining through her eyes as she whispered into his ear. Suddenly, Ned's shoulders straightened, a resolved air overtaking him. "Attention," Ned's voice echoed through the courtyard that was bustling with the people of the North. "My wife has just informed me that King Robert Baratheon will be arriving in Winterfell tomorrow evening, bringing Queen Cersei, their children, and the Queens brothers. We should do our best to welcome them. Let us begin preparations for their arrival." The people of Winterfell immediately began bustling around, grabbing all they could to prepare Winterfell for the King's arrival.

Ned and Catelyn made their way down to their children, seeing each of them almost unconsciously stand at attention, moving into a formation that the people of Winterfell had grown used to seeing them in. Standing in front was Sansa, Lady right by her side. Behind Sansa and Lady were Robb with Grey Wind, Jon and Ghost standing next to them. Behind the two brothers stood Arya and Nymeria, and directly behind her stood Bran and Summer, and Rickon and Shaggydog. Ned sighed as he approached the Pack, the weight of what his wife had just told him weighing heavy on his shoulders. "We have much to prepare for. You six are going to come with your mother and I to meet the King and his court." When Arya and Bran groaned, Ned allowed a grin to once more grace his face. "I know it isn't what you would prefer to do, but as my children, and as the Pack of Winterfell, it is only right that you welcome the Royal family and their court to our home."

When no more complaints came from the Pack, Ned nodded once at his children before turning away, walking off to the Godswood. Catelyn frowned after her husband, sighing softly before turning back to the Pack. "Don't take that personally. Your father has just lost a good friend, and he needs a few moments by himself before he can take us out to meet the King." The Pack nodded to their mother, hugging her as they went off to their rooms to get ready to meet the Royal family.

•••

Time Skip: The Next Day

The Pack stood behind the Lord and Lady Stark in the middle of Kingsroad, half a day from Winterfell, when they finally saw the sigil of House Baratheon flying proudly in the distance. Ned stepped in front of his family, standing at attention as he waited for the King's court to come to a stop before them.

When the large mass of people coming North finally stopped, Ned kneeled before the leader of the procession. "My King."

The large man sitting proudly on his horse let out a bellowing laugh. Sansa noticed that the man had a heavy beard that covered most of his face, and if his gut was anything to go by, several chins as well. The man was clearly King Robert Baratheon if her father's reaction to seeing him is anything to go by. Sansa quickly checked on the Pack through the bond, sensing that they had all figured out who the man was, even Rickon at only three name days.

"There is no need to bow, old friend," the King announced jovially. He quickly pulled Ned to his feet, looking him over with a critical eye. "You've gotten fat." The King said it with a perfectly straight face, holding it for only a brief second before laughing along with Ned, both embracing each other fiercely.

As Ned moved on to greet the King, and then the Royal children, Robert moved on to Catelyn. He hugged her in a similar manner to how Robb would hug Sansa or Arya, showing a healthy amount of brotherly affection. "It has been far too long, Lady Stark. I do hope you have kept the Old Wolf in check?" Catelyn deigned only to smile indulgently at the King, earning another boisterous laugh, before he turned his attention to the Pack.

He approached them slowly, keeping his eyes on the large direwolves by their sides. The Pack stood in their usual formation, making it impossible for the King to think for even a second that Sansa was not Alpha. When the King was a couple paces away, Sansa stepped forward, Lady by her side, and she inclined her head to the King, Lady mimicking the action. "My King, The Pack of Winterfell welcomes you." As she spoke, the rest of the Pack stepped forward as one, each of the humans kneeling from behind their Alpha, the direwolves bowing to the King.

King Robert was stunned for a moment, taking in the slim girl before him. She had her mother's features, looking like he assumed Catelyn did at that age, though the direwolf, the smallest of the Pack with grey fur and yellow eyes, showed her true Stark heritage. The two boys behind her who had yet to rise from their kneeling position could not look more different from each other if they tried. The larger of the two the King assumed to be Robb Stark, his hair giving away his mother, and his size reminding him of the boy's father. The other one was slim, along with his pale skin and dark hair, as well as apparent age caused Robert to believe this boy to be the bastard, Jon Snow. The wolf the Stark boy had was a smokey grey color, yellow eyes staring at the King intently. The bastard's direwolf was pure white, red eyes marking it an albino by all accounts. Behind the boys stood the other Stark girl, her younger age helping the King know her as Arya, this one's physical appearance obviously favoring her Stark heritage, her wolf a slightly darker grey than the other girl's, with eyes a dark gold. Finally, behind the girl stood the two youngest Starks. The elder boy Robert knew to be Bran, his appearance like his brother favoring his mother, his wolf had silver grey fur and the same yellow eyes as the first female, and first Stark boy's wolf. The youngest, just like all the other Stark boys, favors his mother physically, his wolf had long shaggy fur that was all black, with green eyes. The King had to admit, the Pack was an impressive sight. "I thank you, Sansa, for welcoming myself and my court. It is an honor to have lived to see the Pack."

Sansa grinned before sending through the bond that the Pack could get up from their kneeling positions. "The Pack is honored to live under such a just King, and we vow to honor the House of Baratheon and it's rule in the North for as long as they sit on the Iron Throne."

The King's eyes widened, before he quickly leaned down to kiss Sansa's hand, a whispered thank you released with his lips. The King then turned to Ned, who had been watching the interaction warily, booming out, "It's nearly mid-day, let us be on our way to Winterfell." As the King's court showed shouted their approval, Robert nodded in approval to Ned before climbing onto his horse with the aid of a short stool, before once more leading his court North, to Winterfell.


End file.
